Joie Rouge
by JCSabaku
Summary: Blaine must fall in love to write a bohemian play. He meets Kurt, but their love puts the production at risk. Story of Moulin Rouge with Glee characters interchanged. Maybe one or two plot twists thrown in, one of our own ideas, or missing scenes. R&R 3
1. Prologue

**Akira: Hello, one and all! Today, we bring you a special tale of...klaine. Yep! We got this idea after watching Moulin Rouge, and we thought...this was the best idea every thought of ever. Ever. O.O ...So, we hope you enjoy it!**_  
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**JC: Bonjour peoples! One of the greatest things about fanfiction is you are allowed to write what you want and be able to share it with The People of the World. (that's what I call people online) So Akira basically gave you the rundown of everything, so with out further ado, please enjoy the prologue of 'our little show'.**_  
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_**Disclaimer: We do not own Glee, Moulin Rouge, or any song presented in this fic. No profit is being made and all major plot ideas are not our own.**  
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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_There was a boy, a very strange, enchanted boy,_  
><em>They say he wondered very far, very far, over land and sea...<em>

It was the year 1900.

_...a little shy, and sad of eye, but very wise,_  
><em>was he...<em>

A young man, Blaine Anderson, had been in Paris, France for just over a year now.

_...and then one day, one magic day he passed my way..._

He sat in front of a rundown desk; crumpled paper and wrappers littered the ground at his feet.

_...and while we spoke of many things..._

He looked haggard as he stared blankly at the typewriter in front of him

_...fools and kings..._

His white, collared shirt and red bow tie looked unwashed and slept in.

_...this he said to me..._

Rough stubble graced his chin from weeks of disinterest of any type of personal hygiene.

_...the greatest thing,_

He had bigger things on his mind then himself.

_you'll ever learn,_

Much bigger.

_is just to love, and be loved, in return._

It took a moment for his fingers to begin working again as his thoughts oriented themselves to the present. Eventually he started typing. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved..." he said aloud, ending suddenly with the hitch of suppressed sobs, as the same words appeared on the paper. 'The Moulin Rouge,' he continued to type. 'A nightclub. A bordello. A dance hall ruled over by the infamous Sue Sylvester. The rich and powerful came here to play with the beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most beautiful of them all...' Blaine stopped as a small smile curved his face. He felt his eyes fill with tears, but he continued, nonetheless, '...was the man I love, Kurt. Going by the name Satine he sold his love to other men. A courtesan known as_ The Sparkling Diamond_, he was the star of the Moulin Rouge, the prize performer of Sue Sylvester.'

Blaine stopped typing again, and ran his hands through his hair, dragging them down his face. He panted and tried to concentrate on breathing, attempting to calm himself down. Finally, he removed his hands and set them to the typewriter, beginning to type again, a sad frown now formed on his face. 'The man I love is' -he glanced out the window to his left at the now broken down Moulin Rouge- 'not with me.' He looked back at his typewriter, determined to finish writing his story.

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><p><strong>JC: Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are Oreos and Milk to us but we can live without. Though Akira would say that that would be a bane existence.<strong>

**OH! we also have a challenge for anyone who wants to participate, as the story continues, see if you can try and guess who's writing what chapter! We edit each other's but the main writer's voice is always there. Who ever gets most correct by the end gets virtual cookies and coffee and our everlasting love!**

**Akira: Also, if you flame us, I will flame you with real fire. Yeah. You don't want that, do you? Constructive criticism is fine, wonderful even, but please don't say something to us you wouldn't want to hear for yourself. Thanks again!**

**Oh, and the actual first chapter of this should be up by Friday by the very latest. But it might even be up tonight. Depending on how lazy we are.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Akira: Hey, y'all. Sorry this is two days late... I've been really busy with...laziness. And Saints Row: The Third. That game is bloody addicting. Ehehe, anyway, I apologize again. I hope you like this.**

**JC: Bonjour People of the World! or the one's reading this anyway. After posting the prologue I wondered if anyone else had had this idea and wrote something like it, and guess what...NOTHING! At least not posted on this site, haven't checked anywhere else. So I really hope you like this chapter and I'll see you at the bottom. **

**HOLD THE PHONE! Tonight is Darren's closing night on Broadway! Break a Leg! I'm wearing my lucky blue ribbon for you! The word count on this is a bit over 2,500. We'll try and have the next chapter up by next Monday but it's the week before finials so life might get in the way.**

**Like Akira said...Hope you guys enjoy this!**

**Disclaimer: We do not own the Moulin Rouge, movie or otherwise, or Glee. Characters belong to someone not us. **

***flips table*  
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><p>The year was 1899, the summer of love. Blaine Anderson was standing next to a train he had just stepped off of. His face was cleanly shaven, and he adorned a suit with a green bow tie. He grinned at the prospect of seeing Paris during the center of the bohemian revolution. He knew nothing of what would happen to him throughout the next year, unaware of the existences of the Moulin Rouge, Sue Sylvester, or Kurt Hummel. His smile widened as he thought about all the possible experiences he would face and all the inspiration he would receive from them for his writing. He had traveled from London to be a part of this new passion for beauty, freedom, truth and love that had swept through the city of Paris, hoping to see all the musicians, painters, and writers that lived here. They were the children of the revolution! After walking through the streets of Paris, absorbing in the atmosphere of hope for the new century, he finally arrived at the village of Montmartre. It was not like what his father had said at all.<p>

"A village of sin!" his father's words flashed through his mind. Blaine shook the thoughts of how unsupportive his father was out of his mind and quickly made it to the building he was staying at. He went to his room, set up his newly acquired typewriter, and smiled at it. He couldn't wait to start writing with it. He was here to live a penniless existence. He was here to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and -that which he believed in above all things- love.

However, there was a problem with this; he had never been in love! Blaine looked up at this sudden realization.

"Always this ridiculous obsession with love!" he thought of his father again. Blaine sighed and shook his head. He was glad he left his father behind in England. He honestly could not stand that man and his constant criticisms. Thank God he finally left all of that behind him. He remembered again the last conversation that had transpired between him and his father...

_"I'm going to Paris, Father. I wish to be a part of the bohemian revolution! I want to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and love! I don't need your blessing; I only wished to tell you, so you would know where I am," Blaine spoke, two bags under his arms that held clothes and other necessities(which may have included bow ties)._

_ "You're not getting any help from me. You may say you're going to write, but you'll just end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer! And you're certainly not getting any money or support from me!" his father retorted, shaking a bony finger at him._

Well, there was certainly no love-loss there. Despite whatever his father had told him, he was going to write about love all he wanted, as well as anything else that he believed in.

But how on earth could you write about such a deep and emotional thing without ever having experienced it yourself? Just at that moment, an unconscious woman crashed through his ceiling, still being held in the air by her foot as it had gotten caught on a rope. Blaine whipped around and stared at her in pure astonishment. Old plaster and slightly rotten wood scattered across the floor of his barely furbished room. Before he even had time to think about that the matter, a dwarf dressed as a nun slammed the door open ('Why was she dressed as a nun?' he thought), and she smiled at Blaine apologetically. "How do you do? My name is Rachel Berry. I am terribly sorry about all this..." She gestured with her cane, flipped her worn, too-big, wimple over her face, and walked over to the gently swaying woman hanging in the air to make sure she was okay, or as okay as one can be in this circumstance.

"I...what?" Blaine stared at the short woman with a stunned look, wondering what they could have possibly been doing to have this happen. It had happened so suddenly; he was starting to lose the ability to think properly.

"We were just upstairs rehearsing a play!" Rachel said proudly, as if she knew what Blaine was thinking.

"A what?" it seemed he couldn't say anything to this other than 'what' and one letter words.

"A play! Something very modern called Spectacular Spectacular! And it's set in Switzerland!" Rachel stated loudly, and grinned widely as she tried to let the unconscious woman free gently. "And this is Quinn Fabray, by the way. Hey! That rhymed!" Rachel laughed. "But you're probably wondering why she is currently fast asleep. Well, you see, Quinn suffers from a sickness called narcolepsy. Awake one moment and," she lets her head fall to one side and faked a snore, "unconscious and falling through floors the next!" The lady paused then added as an afterthought, "It really can be such a bother..."

"Is she alright?" Blaine heard someone ask in an Irish accent. He looked up at the hole Quinn created to see three men all looking down at them. He quirked an eyebrow at the unusual outfits they were wearing, but he assumed it had something to do with this play they were working on.

"Yes, yes. She's just fine, Rory," Rachel waved her hand at him in a shooing away motion.

"Oh, great," the one with trout-like lips sighed. "Now, that she's unconscious, we won't be able to finish our scenario to present to the financier tomorrow!"

"Sam's right, Rachel," the last one nodded. "I still have to finish teaching and performing the dance moves and choreography."

Despite these negative comments, Rachel was grinning widely, still determined to finish what they had started. "No matter! We'll just have someone else run her lines!"

"Where the hell are we going to find someone to play a young, sensitive Swiss poet/goat herder?" the one called Sam asked. "I don't think many people would be too keen on taking on that role."

"Hmm..." Rachel pondered for a moment and let her eyes wonder around until they landed on Blaine. She made a wicked grin. Oh, he would be perfect. "You!" she shouted and pointed a finger at him dramatically.

Blaine's eyes widened at the gesture, and he took a step back to take all of this in. He was still trying to absorb everything that had just happened. He had no idea what was going on anymore and he was a bit skeptical about helping them at all. But you never know. Maybe this would be an interesting experience. Once he finally made a decision, he found himself standing upstairs in Quinn's place, high up on a platform above the rest of the group. He held a script in his hands, and he ran over his lines as he waited for the others to finish writing one of the songs.

"The hills animate with the euphonious symphonies of descant!" Rachel sang loudly, a wide smile on her face as she thought about the crowd that would be cheering her on at her performance.

"Rachel, just...stop, alright? I can't stand that insufferable droning," Sam sighed, crossing his arms. "It's drowning out all my words." He then turned to the one who was complaining about choreography, later introduced as Mike, and said, "And can't we have a little less complicated dance steps?"

There was obviously a feud going on between Sam's music and Mike's dancing. The overly tiring dance numbers just didn't blend well with the much softer music (Although, Rachel belted out the lyrics as loudly as she could any chance she got.)

"An' I don' think a nun would say that about a hill..." Rory mentioned absently.

"Well, how about 'The hills are vital, intoning the descant'?" Mike suggested.

"No!" Rachel shouted, making sure she was heard. "It should be 'The hills quake and shake-"

"No," Rory surprisingly cut her off. "The hills-"

"The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies!" Quinn yelled, finally awake before she passed out once again and fell onto the conveniently placed bed.

They all pause, taking this in, before dismissing quickly,

"No..." Rory pondered a moment.

"The hills-"

"The hills-"

"The hills-"

"Are chanting the eternal montra!" Rory finally yelled, quite proud of this line.

The four of them continued arguing, unaware of Blaine's struggling to get their attention. He jumped up and down and waved his arms around, hoping one of them would notice him, but he did this to no avail. He sighed heavily, figuring there was only one way to make his idea heard.

"THE HIIIIILLS ARE ALIIIIIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUUUUSIIIIC!" he sang in a beautiful voice.

Everyone fell completely silent, all of them turning to Blaine in awe at his marvelous singing. Then, Quinn woke up again and stumbled off of the bed tiredly, smiling at the voice that had woken her. "The hills are alive with the sound of music!" she repeated. "That's brilliant!"

Blaine gave a relieved sigh, glad to have finally settled the argument.

"THE HILLS ARE ALIVE-" Rory started.

"-WITH THE SOUND-" Rachel continued.

"-OF MUSIC!" Mike finished. Everyone turned to him with a quirked eyebrow, unknowing that he had the ability to sing. But, they all just shrugged it off and turned back to Blaine.

"It's perfect!" Mike grinned.

Blaine smiled widely at their praise and decided he would continue singing his ideas. "With songs they have sung for a thousand years!"

Everyone gasped, amazed at the lyrics he was seemingly coming up with on the spot. "Sam, you two should write the show together!" Rachel grinned, clapping her hands together excitedly.

"I beg your pardon?" Sam frowned.

He shouted about how he would never work with anyone else on his projects, especially not with a person they had just met. His ideas were his and his alone, and he wasn't going to risk someone else taking all the credit.

"Goodbye!" he yelled before leaving the room and slamming the door shut behind him.

Rachel continued to smile as if none of that had ever happened. She pulled a mysterious drink from out of nowhere and offered it up to Blaine. "Here's to your first job in Paris!"

Blaine took the bottle, observing the odd label printed on it. He looked perplexed at the picture of a green fairy on they front. After a moment, he just shrugged and drank the mysterious liquid. How bad could it possibly be?

Mike was worried, uncertain if Blaine would be able to write an entire musical by himself. "Rachel, Sylevester will never agree to this. No offense, Blaine, but have you ever written anything like this before?"

Blaine sighed quietly and shook his head. "No..."

"But I like him," Quinn smiled, walking over to the platform Blaine was still standing on. "He has talent." She lifted her hand up and placed in on Blaine without looking, unaware that it had landed right on his crotch. Blaine gasped and his eyes widened as he stared down Quinn, silently asking what she could possibly be doing. At the odd silence, Quinn blinked and looked up, finally realizing where her hand was. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly removed her hand. "Nothing funny. I just like talent."

Luckily for Quinn, this would never be mentioned again. Rachel brought the group over to her, and they all huddled in a circle, leaving Blaine curious of what they would talk about. "See, Mike. With Blaine, we can a truly bohemian revolutionary show. The kind we've always dreamt of!"

"But how will we convince Sue?" Mike asked, still doubting their decision.

Rachel returned a devilish smirk. She already had a plan. "Kurt," she simply said, as if this explained everything.

Apparently it did. Mike grinned at the idea and nodded, glancing back at Blaine. They dispersed from the huddle and grabbed Blaine, causing him to yelp before they put him in the fanciest suit they had. As they did so, Rachel quickly explained her plan to Blaine.

"We'll pass you off as a famous English writer. Once you get the chance, you will show Kurt your modern poetry. He will be so astounded that he'll insist to Sue that you write Spectacular Spectacular."

Blaine swallowed a lump in his throat that had formed while Rachel explained her plan. He couldn't stop hearing his father's words in his head, "You'll end up wasting your time at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer!"

Blaine quickly shook his head and suddenly tried to escape through the hole in the floor Quinn had fallen through earlier. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this!"

Rachel pouted at him and asked, "Why not?"

"I...I don't even know if I'm a true bohemian revolutionary," he answered quietly.

"What?" Rachel looked shocked, turned to Mike with disbelief, than looked back at Blaine. "Do you believe in beauty?"

"Well...yes."

"Freedom?"

"Yeah."

"Truth?"

"Of course."

"Love?"

Blaine went quiet, knowing the perfect answer to that single word. "Love. Above all things, I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love!"

Everyone looked at him with a wide smile, happy to hear such a wondrous response. Then, Rachel suddenly laughed. "See, you can't fool us! You're the voice of the children of the revolution!"

"WE CAN'T BE FOOLED!" everyone shouted at once.

"Now, let's drink to the writer of the finest revolutionary show!" Rachel grinned, holding her bottle in the air.

Blaine looked back at the bottle that was given to him earlier, taking another sip of it. "What's this called, anyway?"

"Absinthe!" Rachel answered giddily, drinking from her own bottle.

The rest all drank as well, quickly becoming dizzy from the strong chemicals in the drink. Blaine was suddenly laughing at nothing, feeling the urge to dance. As he was about to drink some more of the absinthe, he noticed that the green fairy on the label was smiling at him.

"I'm the green fairy," she winked at him before flying off the bottle, hovering in front of them as she started to sing. "THE HILLS ARE ALIVE-"

"-WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC!" the rest finished.

Then, the green fairy smirked before she began dancing, pulling sexy poses for the men and women to enjoy. Everyone laughed and hollered for her to continue. No one questioned the fact that there was currently a live fairy right in front of them. It seemed to them like it was perfectly normal.

"YEAH, BEAUTY, FREEDOM, TRUTH, AND LOVE!" they screamed, Blaine starting to head bang. "NO, YOU WON'T FOOL THE CHILDREN OF THE REVOLUTION!"

"THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC!" the green fairy sang over them.

If there was anyone here that hadn't drunken the absinthe, they would look at this in horror, confused whether or not anyone had any sanity left. Everyone laughed and cheered for Blaine's horrible dancing, not having any concern of what people thought of him right now. Actually, he didn't care about anything right now. He felt like he was immortal!

The green fairy flew out the window and went to the Moulin Rouge, flying around the windmill as it began to spin so fast that it looked like a portal. The group of five was all sucked into the portal, much to the green fairy's delight as her eyes glowed red.

"YEEEEAAAAAH!" they screamed.

At the same time, if you had decided to go for a stroll through the streets of Paris, you would see five drunken fools stumble their way to the Moulin Rouge.

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><p><strong>Akira: Hello, me again. I'm sorry if the end was confusing. It'd be nice to get some reviews, so JC and I can both improve our writing. That's...all I have to say. So see you next time. Hopefully.<strong>

**JC: I think Akira's feeling a bit down so I'ma gonna go bring her chocolate tomorrow. So please review, if you have the time..oh! And thanks to weezybaby630 for Favorite-ing our story and thanks to Blackmorning for putting this story under their Alerts. See you next time, People of the World!  
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